Is it OK if I go ahead and send you the first chapter? It's something I essentially rewrote from scratch over the last month--the novel has been finished since September, but I got some comments on pacing problems, and when I went back and looked, it was obvious the opening was way too long and leisurely. I've got it trimmed to the point the hero and heroine now meet on page 25 in Ch. 2 rather than page 64 in Ch. 4, but now I'm worried that it's too abrupt, too much info all at once.
Angelus ,'Smile Time'
The Great Write Way
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
Go right ahead! If you send it tonight (or by early tomorrow EST), I can print it out and read it this weekend on the car trip, or while up at the in-laws.
Insent, AmyLiz.
Got it, Susan! I probably won't send comments till Tuesday, though, because I'll be computerless at the in-laws', and I have a pile of laundry and packing to do tonight. Okay?
Sure! Have a great trip.
Oh, Susan! Btw, I've not forgotten you. I'll have to email you re: freelance, but probably not until next week. I'm sorry, it's been crazy. I think we're going to still do something, but we'll at least pay you for what you've done up till now. And with that tidbit, I've got to try to sleep.
I haven't drabbled in a while, but everyone's written such depressing ones I felt I had to lighten the mood:
Being dead isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. You always think your astral body will get the hell up as soon as it’s not needed, but no. I’m stuck here on the damn floor with a—is that a fork? Did she kill me with a fucking fork? Christ.
She’s calling the police now, I think. She should report a murder! That would be ironic. There’s no blood in her hair. God, she’s hot. Why are the pretty ones always insane? Oh, she’s coming back now and bending—hey! Hey! Don’t close the eyes! Shit. Now I can’t see.
Good one. Bwah.
buhWAH!
That's a honey, P-C.
Variations on an earlier theme, one I did for "knots". Adults only.
Game, Redux
"Let me up."
"No way, honey. Not for a while yet."
He's not touching her. He's just looking at her, circling the bed. He's got every weapon, every advantage: she's naked, he's not. She's bound, he's free. Most of all, she agreed to this.
She wants to squirm, and there's no defense against those eyes of his. No squirming, she tells herself. He doesn't need an extra advantage.
"Let me up." She tries to bite back the words. It seems she can't. Damn it. Damn it.
"No." He circles the bed. "Not yet. I like you just where you are."